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Page 4
There can be little doubt that the Japanese festival called
Tanabata was originally identical with the festival of the Chinese
Weaving-Goddess, Tchi-Niu; the Japanese holiday seems to have
been especially a woman's holiday, from the earliest times; and
the characters with which the word Tanabata is written signify a
weaving-girl. But as both of the star-deities were worshiped on the
seventh of the seventh month, some Japanese scholars have not been
satisfied with the common explanation of the name, and have stated
that it was originally composed with the word _tan�_ (seed, or grain),
and the word _hata_ (loom). Those who accept this etymology make the
appellation, Tanabata-Sama, plural instead of singular, and render
it as "the deities of grain and of the loom,"--that is to say, those
presiding over agriculture and weaving. In old Japanese pictures
the star-gods are represented according to this conception of their
respective attributes;--Hikoboshi being figured as a peasant lad
leading an ox to drink of the Heavenly River, on the farther side of
which Orihim� (Tanabata) appears, weaving at her loom. The garb of
both is Chinese; and the first Japanese pictures of these divinities
were probably copied from some Chinese original.
In the oldest collection of Japanese poetry extant,--the
Many[=o]sh[=u], dating from 760 A.D.,--the male divinity is usually
called Hikoboshi, and the female Tanabata-tsum�; but in later times
both have been called Tanabata. In Izumo the male deity is popularly
termed O-Tanabata Sama, and the female M�-Tanabata Sama. Both are
still known by many names. The male is called Kaiboshi as well as
Hikoboshi and Kengy[=u]; while the female is called Asagao-him�
("Morning Glory Princess")[1], Ito-ori-him� ("Thread-Weaving
Princess"), Momoko-him� ("Peach-Child Princess"), Takimono-him�
("Incense Princess"), and Sasagani-him� ("Spider Princess"). Some
of these names are difficult to explain,--especially the last, which
reminds us of the Greek legend of Arachne. Probably the Greek myth and
the Chinese story have nothing whatever in common; but in old Chinese
books there is recorded a curious fact which might well suggest a
relationship. In the time of the Chinese Emperor Ming Hwang (whom the
Japanese call Gens[=o]), it was customary for the ladies of the court,
on the seventh day of the seventh month, to catch spiders and put them
into an incense-box for purposes of divination. On the morning of the
eighth day the box was opened; and if the spiders had spun thick webs
during the night the omen was good. But if they had remained idle the
omen was bad.
[Footnote 1: Asagao (lit., "morning-face") is the Japanese name for
the beautiful climbing plant which we call "morning glory."]
* * * * *
There is a story that, many ages ago, a beautiful woman visited the
dwelling of a farmer in the mountains of Izumo, and taught to the only
daughter of the household an art of weaving never before known. One
evening the beautiful stranger vanished away; and the people knew
that they had seen the Weaving-Lady of Heaven. The daughter of the
farmer became renowned for her skill in weaving. But she would never
marry,--because she had been the companion of Tanabata-Sama.
* * * * *
Then there is a Chinese story--delightfully vague--about a man who
once made a visit, unawares, to the Heavenly Land. He had observed
that every year, during the eighth month, a raft of precious wood came
floating to the shore on which he lived; and he wanted to know where
that wood grew. So he loaded a boat with provisions for a two years'
voyage, and sailed away in the direction from which the rafts used to
drift. For months and months he sailed on, over an always placid sea;
and at last he arrived at a pleasant shore, where wonderful trees
were growing. He moored his boat, and proceeded alone into the unknown
land, until he came to the bank of a river whose waters were bright as
silver. On the opposite shore he saw a pavilion; and in the pavilion
a beautiful woman sat weaving; she was white like moonshine, and made
a radiance all about her. Presently he saw a handsome young peasant
approaching, leading an ox to the water; and he asked the young
peasant to tell him the name of the place and the country. But the
youth seemed to be displeased by the question, and answered in a
severe tone: "If you want to know the name of this place, go back
to where you came from, and ask Gen-Kum-Pei."[2] So the voyager,
feeling afraid, hastened to his boat, and returned to China. There he
sought out the sage Gen-Kum-Pei, to whom he related the adventure.
Gen-Kum-Pei clapped his hands for wonder, and exclaimed, "So it was
you!... On the seventh day of the seventh month I was gazing at
the heavens, and I saw that the Herdsman and the Weaver were about
to meet;--but between them was a new Star, which I took to be a
Guest-Star. Fortunate man! you have been to the River of Heaven, and
have looked upon the face of the Weaving-Lady!..."
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